


collection of sins for the king and the moose

by bowtiesnrocksalt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: GASP, Help, I don't know what I'm doing with my life, M/M, On the verge of smut, So Moosely fic, but it's not, how does one write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-22 16:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2514032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowtiesnrocksalt/pseuds/bowtiesnrocksalt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley hates Sam and Sam hates Crowley </p><p>or at least that's how it was supposed to go. </p><p> </p><p>A collection of different little smutty or sometimes fluffy one-shots for the demon and the moose man that we all know and love~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. t o x i c

**Author's Note:**

> TINA YOU FAT LARD COME GET SOME DINNER
> 
> UGH
> 
> So this is some writings on the verge of smut because I was bored and listening to dubstep. The song for this fic is, of course, toxic - singularity remix.  
> You should listen to it sooooOOMMMEETIIMMESSS I GET A LITTLE LONELY

It’s getting late  
To give you up  
I took a sip  
From my devil's cup  
Slowly  
It’s taking over me

-

Crowley hated Sam.  
He hated Sam with all that was left of his dull, blackened heart, and whenever he looked at the youngest Winchester he wanted to-… he wanted…  
“Crowley? Are you even listening?” The voice cut through Crowley’s thoughts and the demon shifted beneath the heavy weight of the shackles.  
“Yes, dear. How could I not with a heavenly voice such as yours?” His reply was dry and meant to cut low, but Sam simply huffed out a breath and pulled up a chair across from Crowley. The demon eyed him for a moment and crossed one ankle over the other before it started.  
It always started like that.  
Crowley and Sam would be alone in a room, usually with the demon in chains, and it would build up. It would rise up like smoke and it suffocated the both of them, yet neither of them cared to cough –admit it- and it stayed like that until someone else came in and cleared it all away. But Dean was out on a hunt along with Castiel.  
Sam and Crowley were, in simpler terms, alone.  
Crowley hated it.  
“Did you need something, Moose?” Crowley’s voice was sarcastic as usual, but the Winchester could hear the edge to it. The slight discomfort.  
“Of course not. I’m here for you.” Sam replied evenly and leaned back in chair, arms folded across his chest. Crowley gritted his teeth together and rolled his eyes before managing to regain his composure that he’d forgotten he’d lost. See, it was THIS- THIS is what made Crowley hate Sam. The way that he knew things that people haven’t even told him and then he just played innocent, like he didn’t know the things- like.. just…  
“Well, Moose, I think I’m fine. You can leave. Now.” Crowley’s reply was sharp and he tried to ignore the way Sam leaned back towards the table. He honest to God tried to ignore it, he really did.  
“Are you sure?” Sam asked and tilted his head a bit before he reached into his back pocket and brought out a knife. Crowley immediately strained against his chains, desperate to get away, but he knew that it’d do him no good.  
“Yes, Sa- Moose. Now please go-… what are you doing?” The demon watched as Sam pressed the blade of the knife against his thumb, keeping his eyes trained on Crowley as crimson began to taint his flesh. Crowley leaned back in chair and tried to keep himself as far away from Sam as possible because he hated Sam. He swore he did. Well, he tried to hate Sam. He took an honest effort at trying, he really did. He tried to hate his abnormal height, his strength, his hair, his- well, everything, really. And he tried for God-knows-how-long to summon that hate whenever he saw the younger Winchester but it never worked. Maybe the first time they met it worked, but after that… after that he couldn’t. He was weak in the presence of Sam Winchester and he’ll be damned TWICE if he were to ever admit it.  
Well, to anyone but Sam himself, of course.  
“You know, Crowley… it’s kind of obvious. Your addiction.” The Winchester said and raised himself from his chair before he made his way over to Crowley.  
“Please, Moose. You’re fooling yourself.” The demon replied, voice noticeably rougher as he felt Sam’s soul –SOUL, dammit- near him. Crowley inhaled sharply as he watched Sam push Crowley’s chair back a bit and seated himself on the spot on the table right in front of the demon. A knowing look was in his eyes as he looked at the king in front of him.  
“Would you like me to show you why I don’t believe that?”  
“Moose, I..”  
“Sam. It’s Sam”  
“Sam, you really should just leave.”  
“No.” His answer was simple and before Crowley could get anything else out, Sam dragged the blade across his palm and cut deep into the skin. The demon tried to tune out the hiss of pain that it elicited from the Winchester and he tried, dammit, he TRIED to erase the memory of the red liquid pouring over Sam’s hand.  
“Just… go, Sam.”  
“No.”  
“GO!”  
“No. I want you to admit to what you really are, Crowley.” Sam said, and he inched himself just a bit closer.  
“Weak.” Closer.  
“Pathetic.” Closer.  
“Little.” Closer.  
“Bi-“ Sam moved closer before he finished his word, and Crowley was going to let him finish. Honestly. He was going to let Sam finish his speech and let everything flow from there, but his palm which was leaking fresh blood was right in front of his face. Literally. And Crowley’s not someone to miss out on opportunities, of course, so why not?  
Why not press his mouth like a pathetic animal onto Sam’s hand and lap up the blood? Why not relish the taste, the pure, innocent, HUMAN taste and pull away breathless, asking for more? Why not let Sam cut into his palm again and give him the blood? Why not lean into Sam’s touch, not just because of the blood but because of Sam? Why not let himself mutter lovesick mantras into Sam’s skin and watch silver press against Sam’s lip and then it all go crimson? Why not let Sam lower himself, closer and closer with fucking toxic RED covering his mouth?  
Why. Not?  
Because he’s Crowley, Crowley, Crowley-  
“Crowley!” The demon woke up with a start, his breathing ragged as he stared with wide eyes at the youngest Winchester before him. Sweat dampened his brow as he watched Sam fold his arms across his chest.  
“Are you even listening?”


	2. p o i s o n

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has wings, apparently. 
> 
> Sam doesn't believe it. 
> 
> Smut-related things follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god what am I doing...
> 
> Anyway, I wrote this at the request of another. 
> 
> This one absolutely sucks
> 
> that's what i think
> 
> anyway i'm going to go make tea. Hope you enjoy~
> 
>  
> 
> Songs I listened to while making this 
> 
> Climax - Usher  
> Sexy Back - Justin T. (Cry Wolf Remix... I think.)

“You can at least let me stretch my wings.” Those words were not meant to come from Crowley’s mouth. Castiel’s maybe, but certainly not Crowley. Not a demon. Not the literal King of Hell. Never in all his research had it said anything about demons having wings. Of course there was the occasional inky depiction of leathery, bony appendages spreading from their shoulders but even then it was rare. It just wasn't normal. It wasn't… real. So Sam could only assume he was lying. 

“You know, Crowley, I think this has to be one of your worst lies.” Sam said that without looking up at the King, focused on paging through a book of lore of werewolves for Dean. He heard the demon shift and let out a light chuckle which caused his gaze to falter from the tattered page. 

“Why would I need to lie to you whilst in chains, Sam?” The youngest Winchester involuntarily tightened his grip on the old book at Crowley’s voice pronouncing his actual name. “You don’t really have to let me out. Just let me stand up and all your pretty little hands have to do is cut two little lines down my suit.” Sam considered his words and let the demon wait for his reply for a few moments. If it was the only thing he’d have to do-… still, though, they weren't even real. They were probably ugly if they even were anyway. It wouldn't be a big deal. 

“Fine.” Sam slapped the pages shut and tossed the book aside; stood up and removed his knife from his pocket with practiced ease. “Stand up.” The demon did as was asked and took his time in doing so. His hazel gaze flickered between Sam’s eyes and the knife he held tight in his hand. The Winchester swallowed lightly as he rounded the table and stood behind Crowley; a little flash of resentment and… something else sparked beneath his rib cage as he brought the blade up to his shoulders. He quickly pierced and tore the fabric; allowed the point of the blade to press against Crowley’s skin. For a moment he left the knife where it was and wondered what expression the King wore. It wasn't like the demon to make requests to ruin his beloved suits nor have anyone put a blade near him, lest it be for something… else. Something Sam didn't care to think about at the moment or just didn't allow himself to think about for reasons he kept pushed deep in his mind. 

“Much obliged, Moose. Now, if I were you, I’d stand over there instead of behind me.” Crowley’s voice came evenly from over his shoulder and Sam nodded tersely before doing as advised. He watched Crowley with tense muscles and his knuckles whitened due to the grip on the knife. For a while Crowley stood there and rolled his shoulders a bit. His shackled hands sat primly in front of him closed and opened. After a minute Sam thought it was all just a joke and eased up a bit, about to make a joke of the situation before a flash of black and gold shot out from behind Crowley. Sam immediately took a step backward and his hand ached from holding the knife so tightly. His eyes widened at the sight before him. 

From behind Crowley were two large, black wings. The end feathers brushed up against the walls of the dungeon and the arches were far above Crowley’s head. Gold dusted the ends of the longest feathers and the arches; reflected what little fluorescent light there was that came from the lamp in the corner and the one that hung from ceiling. Sam immediately felt dwarfed because of the sheer size of the wings and his instincts were telling him to stab Crowley or go get a machete to cut the damn things off, but it… there was something stopping him. The smell of expensive cologne and something like vanilla reached his nose and didn't waver like a normal scent would. The taste of honey and tea filled his mouth. 

“What… What is that? The smell and…” Sam began to ask but trailed off, shock still paralyzing him a bit more than he was comfortable with. Across from him Crowley shrugged lightly and the chains voiced themselves along with the motion. 

“It’s just a little thing every winged creature has. A signature, if you think about it. Of course the angels have them, too, like Dean’s little boy toy. His scent is jasmine and rain water; taste is champagne and lemon. Too sharp for my tastes.” Crowley explained, his voice even and his wings folded in slightly. 

“But… demons don’t have wings. And even if they do they’re not supposed to be… feathered!” Sam protested, thousands of passages from lore coming forth to his mind. Crowley huffed sharply and his wings moved with him.

“Of course not, Sam, but you forget; I used to be an angel. Well I don’t think I told you this… But to put it simply I was an angel, became Fergus and forgot about it, became a demon and remembered. But I've always had these wings. And it’s true, demons don’t usually have wings, but there are exceptions.” Crowley said and arched one wing forward. He reached out with his shackled hands to brush out a few feathers. Sam watched the motion; brows furrowed with the information he had just been told. Thousands of things tumbled around in his skull. His mind scrambled wildly and tried to think of something to say. 

“Can I touch them?” Was what he said. Out of all the things that he could have said, it was a request to touch them. Crowley looked up, surprise evident in his dark eyes, but nodded nonetheless. 

“If you insist, Moose.” He agreed, though there was something tenser to his tone. Sam decided to ignore it and edged forward with caution in mind. Eventually he came up to the left of the table and was only a foot or two from the King that, as a matter of fact, did have wings. And they were fucking beautiful, despite his hatred for the actions of the demon that they belonged to.

Hesitantly he reached out and his hand shook lightly before they found the surface of the wing. It was soft –unbelievably soft- yet they were solid and powerful all at the same time. From the corner of his eye he saw Crowley shift his other wing in what could be discomfort, but the Winchester continued anyway. He slowly dragged his hand down the expanse of black and gold feathers. He then saw that the golden spots were carefully designed patterns and curls. Now more confident he suddenly pushed his fingers into the feathers and heard the way Crowley sucked in a breath of air. 

“You know, Sam.” The Winchester was beginning to walk to stand behind Crowley, yet his hand never left the wing. “The signature I was talking to you about. It’s only there…” He trailed off when Sam stood completely behind him and buried his fingers in the softer downy feathers that lie there. Sam watched as Crowley pushed back against his touch but it was a movement that looked strained; as if he was keeping something back. 

“When the creature senses a potential mate?” Sam finished, his voice much stronger than Crowley’s had been. Crowley seemed to tense in surprise and turned his head a bit to project his voice over his shoulder. 

“How do you know that?” He asked as Sam brought his other hand to the other wing. 

“Angel lore. Figured that if that’s what happened with winged creatures like them it’d apply to you.” He replied, but his voice was quieter now. His concentration on Crowley’s wings took priority and before he could stop himself he buried his fingers deep in the downy of both wings. The King immediately reacted; breathed out sharply and arched his back lightly with the clinking of the chains around his wrists following suit. Sam’s mouth upturned at the demon’s reaction and his fingers slowly removed the pressure. 

“Then you must also know…” Crowley began and sounded utterly breathless. “That such creatures as I identify others with their signatures, even if they don’t have wings.” Sam arched a brow at this and pressed his palms along the area of Crowley’s wings where the bones lie beneath. 

“And?” He prompted the demon to finish, stepping closer to Crowley and leaving not but a few inches between them. His eyes flickered up to the arches of his wings that dropped slightly at Sam’s voice. 

“And that means you have a signature, too.” Crowley’s voice was slowly regaining its usual confidence and it made Sam hum lightly in response. “And you know, Sam, it’s quite irresistible.” With a movement quicker than Sam couldn't even think to try and replicate he was pressed between Crowley and the table. The demon’s voice had lowered deliberately and his wings hung over the both of them like a canopy. 

“Care to tell me what it is?” Sam challenged as something flickered in his chest. Dark as it was, he kept fueling it; pressed closer to the demon above him. 

“The scent is simple.” Crowley began and lowered his head to Sam’s neck; barely grazed the flesh that lie there. Sam had to place his hands behind him on the table to keep steady. “Mint, soap, leather.” Sam listened and felt as Crowley slowly moved his head to put his mouth right near his ear. “The taste is so much more complex. It’s whiskey sometimes.” He pressed his lips against the spot below Sam’s jaw. “Then it’s cinnamon.” Another one against his neck and Sam’s breathing was heavier. He watched as Crowley lifted his head up to meet Sam’s eyes, his pupils blown wide and something dark waited beneath the throes of darkness. “But you want to know the most interesting one, Sam?” He asked and only waited a second before continuing. “Fire.” Sam startled and blinked confusedly at how one of his tastes could be… fire. It made no sense to Sam and he was about to ask how it was before he felt a rough bite to his neck. A choked, strained, and certainly pleased sound escaped the Winchester. “Do you know what fire tastes like, Sam?” The words were hushed and dark against Sam’s skin and it took all he had to shake his head. “It tastes absolutely,” Another bite, soothed by a stripe of pure heat from the King’s tongue. “Ridiculously.” Sam now reached up with one hand to bury his fingers roughly in the feathers that towered above him and it elicited a dangerous but delightful sound from Crowley. “Fucking..” The word was loud and quiet all at once; held much more meaning that Crowley let on as simple as the meaning was. “Delicious.” Crowley’s mouth was only an inch from Sam’s as he said it. 

And that’s when Sam woke up.


	3. nymphs 'n such

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh godddd I haven't updated in SO long. Hopefully people will like this i don't fckin know

Crowley was always one for sin, whether it be greed, violence, murder, things of that sort. 

Even lust, however rarely. 

When the occasion did call, though, he was rather picky than most. Usually demons found their pleasures out of just raw touch and bite marks out of mortal or even angel skin, if they were lucky enough. But to Crowley, that was just plain barbaric. There was no art to it, no finesse or class to an act that deserved such fine detail. 

Hence why he didn’t exactly favor the collection of nymphs he was sent as a peace offering. 

“You know, Hei, this really isn’t my sort of thing. Honestly, this is more of a war declaration than anything.” Crowley sighed, ignoring the desperate touches and grasps of the barely-clothed women around him, all of them cooing and urging him to respond. Of course they were beautiful- all dressed in fine cloths with fair, unblemished skin and in all shapes and sizes, but they were so _needy _. And clingy. And demanding. All of which he disfavored in all aspects of the word. He did take a bit of pity, though, to the man -Hei- standing not too far away, nervously glancing around and mouth bobbing in a search for a words. Hei was a God- not too popular at that, either- and could merely control certain types of metals, but the rest of his immortal family treated him fairly enough, though only out of pity, if Crowley had to guess. The only reason why he’d even have nymphs to spare would be because of the obligations and sadness of the rest of his family, seeing as how he had little to no worshipers.__

__“N-No! I mean, no disrespect, but I-I thought th-that you m-might like them.” Hei stuttered, wide golden eyes flickering in the low lighting of Crowley’s throne room. Crowley inhaled slowly, trying to keep his patience as he didn’t want to start up any wars with the actually powerful Gods._ _

__“I’m afraid not, love. Now would you kindly take these whores away from me? They’re not my type anyhow.” Crowley demanded, venom subtly dripping from his words as Hei let out a desperate sigh, his gaze falling to the floor before he suddenly perked up, hope in his eyes._ _

__“W-Wait! I’ll call them back, sir, I promise, but um… I do have one more. He was a gift from Athena, you see, and he’s not like the rest of these ladies, I a-assure you.” Hei proposed, his eyes wide with hope as Crowley considered the offer. Quite honestly he was sick and tired of nymphs in general, but if it was from Athena, well… that’d be different. The Goddess wasn’t really known for keeping around nymphs in general nowadays, so it’d be interesting to see the apparently ‘male’ nymph that she had gifted to Hei._ _

__“Fine. Make it snappy though. And for that last _bloody _time leash back your whores!” He snapped, smacking away the demanding hand of one of them as Hei let out a pleased laugh, snapping his fingers before all of the women suddenly disappeared. Crowley let out a relieved sigh, slumping back in his chair in a not-so regal way as Hei closed his eyes, obviously in focus before he snapped his fingers once more, a figure suddenly arriving from a small puff of blue-hued smoke. The king squinted a bit, trying to discern the figure from the cloudy wisps until it all cleared away and-___ _

____“Holy Hell…” He muttered, straightening in his seat as his gaze raked over the nymph. It was obviously a male, the figure made out of hardened lines that were completely obvious, considering how it was dressed. It was only clad in a black toga-like skirt, the golden clasp hooked low over his sharp hip gleaming with the emblem of Athena. Above that was his torso, his muscles almost ironically looking to be carved out of bronze by the Gods. Wrapped around his biceps were two golden clasps, the muscles shifting beautifully beneath the gleaming, smooth metals. The nymph’s facial features were even more alluring, his jaw strong and his eyes an ever changing myriad of colour. His hair was unusually long for a man’s though he certainly made it work, the earth-colored locks only adding to his already near-painful attractiveness. Upon his head was a wreath of golden roses, the leaves and vines a charred black. The man himself looked somewhat disinterested till his gaze met Crowley’s, the small quirk to his lips ever-so maddening as Hei let out a delighted noise._ _ _ _

____“See! Isn’t he beautiful? He was created by Athena himself, so he’s very clever, too. Oh, and his name is Sayertes, though I just call him Sam.” Hei explained, glancing proudly at Sam before looking towards Crowley, honey-colored gaze expectant. The king hummed lightly in acknowledgement, snapping his fingers before wrapping his fingers around a glass of dark wine, sitting back into his throne._ _ _ _

____“Indeed. And he’ll do for a peace offering, I suppose.” Crowley tried to sound nonchalant as Hei broke out in a huge, delighted grin- the nymph simply raising a brow as he crossed his arms over his chest._ _ _ _

____“Great! Well, I’ll leave you be, Mr.Crowley, I mean he’s such a gem, he truly is-” Hei began, Crowley rolling his eyes as he sensed an oncoming ramble._ _ _ _

____“Yes, yes, Hei. Now leave before I keep him and declare war regardless.” Crowley demanded, Hei’s eyes widening before he nodded hurriedly, his body disappearing out of thin air in seconds. Silence passed over the two of them before the nymph tilted his head a bit, beginning to step forward. Crowley simply took a delicate sip from his glass, eyes fixated upon the nymph as it came closer, eyes holding an unreadable expression._ _ _ _

____“So you’re the demon king, right? Ruler of sin and whatnot?” Sam suddenly questioned as he drew nearer, eventually stopping before Crowley, their knees not but inches from touching. The demon shrugged casually as he took another sip from the wine glass and made it dissipate into another reality ._ _ _ _

____“You could say that.” He replied, keeping a straight face as the nymph suddenly climbed onto Crowley’s lap, knees on either side of the demon’s thighs._ _ _ _

____“So that means you’re, what, an expert on all of the sins, right?” Sam continued, eyes scanning over Crowley’s face as the king nodded once more, trying to keep his cool as the nymph’s fingers came up to brush over the wrinkles in his suit. “So, if I can remember correctly, there’s seven deadly sins. There’s pride.” Sam began, fingers tracing up over Crowley’s shoulders. “There’s envy.” They brushed by his chest, Sam’s face slowly inching closer. “There’s sloth and anger.” He continued, lowering his lips down to mouth faintly at the edge of Crowley’s jaw, his hips just barely grinding down. “Gluttony, too.” His face was suddenly right before Crowley’s, his gaze boring into the king’s, neither of them daring to look away in fear of a display of sub-ordinance. “And finally, there’s lust.” The nymph tilted his head once more, eyes purposely falling from Crowley’s eyes to his lips and back._ _ _ _

____“Well aren’t you a smart one, hm?” Crowley replied, a mixture of mockery and lust in his voice before Sam let out a small chuckle, leaning forward to nip lightly at Crowley’s lower lip before flickering his gaze back up to the king’s._ _ _ _

____“Very.” He murmured, letting out a noise of pleased surprise when Crowley suddenly surged forward, lips locking with his as Crowley’s fingers tangled in Sam’s hair. The demon’s other hand raked down Sam’s bare back, surely leaving marks behind in the shapes of crescents and lines as his teeth suddenly bit down on Sam’s lips enough to draw blood, though the nymph simply relished it. Determined to draw out loud, begging sounds from Sam Crowley’s hands and mouth began to roam over exposed, tan skin, already eliciting a collection of delightful noises. By that point the king was sure he could absorb those sounds like a drug, already feeling his addiction to the nymph sink in fully, igniting in his core as he felt the nymphs hands clutch and pull insistently at his suit jacket._ _ _ _

_____That _was the type of demanding that he could certainly tolerate.__ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> pls don't hate me
> 
> and huzzah for pumpkin bread


End file.
